2012 Volkswagen Beetle

Now that the New one is gone, we're just going to say it: It was a chick car. Was.

Throughout its 73-year history, the VW Beetle has embodied VW’s “people’s car” philosophy, the original Type 1 becoming more than 21 million people’s car before production finally ceased in Mexico in 2003. It was only during the 12-year term of the New Beetle—introduced in 1998 and discontinued after the final 2010 models—that those people became, by and large, female. In its peak year, the New Beetle sold more than 80,000 copies in the U.S., roughly 75 percent of them to women, based on our observation. (The other 25 percent going to very effeminate, very confident, or completely oblivious men.) If VW were to make its goal of moving 800,000 cars in the U.S. by 2018, even a percentage of the 83,434 Beetles sold here in 1999 would be a helpful number to add back into the sales charts.

Thankfully, in designing this generation of Beetle, VW started with the right priority: Reshape the car so it will appeal to more than just people who can get away with wearing skirts in public (Scots excluded). Gone is the syrupy-cute, large-bubble-eating-a-smaller-bubble look, replaced by a design with a flatter, lower roof, a flatter, longer hood, and tauter sheetmetal that looks like someone popped a pressure-relief valve and bled off a couple dozen psi.

The result is larger than its predecessor—7.3 inches longer, with 1.1 more inches between the wheels, and 3.3 inches wider—and spectacularly retro. It is far more faithful to the original than the previous Beetle, right down to the wheel designs and delightful ’70s brown paint. VW seems unlikely to follow our suggestion to call this shade “dung,” thereby denying customers the option of buying a dung Beetle. However, in homage to the numerous entomological nicknames the vehicle has acquired around the world—Käfer, Coccinelle, Maggiolino, to name a few—VW will offer a variety of the monikers as optional replacements for the standard “Beetle” script on the hatch.

That’s It for the Poop Jokes

There are important practical implications for the new shape in addition to the obvious aesthetic ones. Although no longer boasting a top-hat-friendly front row ready for Abe Lincoln and Mr. Peanut’s Sunday drive, the Beetle’s interior still offers a spacious front seat. Even in a car with a sunroof—his mortal enemy—this six-foot, seven-inch scribe fits comfortably behind the wheel. The standard telescoping column’s generous reach is a tremendous aid. The Beetle’s sunroof is huge, but the hole it creates when open is small. Early in their ownership, we expect that many drivers will fiddle with its switch, thinking the roof should open farther. It does, however, slide back far enough to get in the way when the rear hatch is opened, which is why it automatically slides forward three inches when the rear portal’s latch releases.

Assuming all are average size, a quartet of adults can comfortably ride in the Beetle—although those much loftier than average height will find their foreheads locked into a cutout in the trailing edge of the headliner. Although it does allow for taller riders, the cutout somewhat uncomfortably forces an upright posture, lest you constantly rub your forehead on cloth. On the other hand, it’s convenient for sweltering summertime rides when you want to wipe your brow on your friend’s headliner. And the simple manual folding operation of the front seats quickly opens a large passage to the rear, where 15 cubic feet of flower vases will fit beneath the rear hatch. (Capacity swells to 30 cubic feet with the rear seats folded.) Buyers wanting a vase in their Beetle will need a solution similar to this, as there is no longer one mounted on the dash. Good.

Soap Bars and German Cars

Structurally, if you think of the Beetle as a Jetta that has graduated from Soap Bars Anonymous, you won’t be far off. It shares much of that car’s platform, including the U.S.-market version’s torsion-beam rear suspension, although Beetles powered by the optional turbo four use a multilink rear setup like that on the recently announced Jetta GLI. On this early drive, the turbo was the only car available to us. The base engine is VW’s unique 2.5-liter inline-five; both it and the four have the same output in the Beetle as they do in its boxier brethren. The five chalks up 170 hp and 177 lb-ft; the four squeezes out 200 and 207. Transmission choices with the five are a five-speed manual and a six-speed automatic; the turbo gets a six-speed manual or six-speed DSG. A Beetle TDI, with VW’s 140-hp turbo-diesel producing 236 lb-ft of torque, will arrive next summer, as will a Beetle convertible. The Beetle R, with a higher-output turbo four making at least 240 hp, will bow sometime later.

Despite being such a familiar engine, the turbo four-cylinder sounds different in the Beetle than in other Volkswagens, almost five-cylinder-esque. Its familiar surge of power, though, is as addicting here as in the GTI. Although we appreciate the DSG’s immediate upshifts and rev-matched downshifts, the takeup of this transmission at part throttle is still frustratingly slow, making for some unnecessarily anxious moments when darting into traffic. It is eager to upshift in urban commuting, although the seamless shifts mean the driver notices the change in engine note far more than he feels the gear swap.

The base car comes with 17-inch wheels and can be fitted with 18s. The Turbo includes 18s and offers 19s. The 18-inchers feel about as big as we’d want on this car, with larger impacts bordering on harsh. But the ride is otherwise smooth, with restrained body motions. All Beetles have a strut-front suspension with an anti-roll bar, but the Turbo’s bar is 1 mm larger, at 23 mm. In addition, the Turbo gets an 18-mm rear anti-roll bar and an optional sportier tune; the base car does without either of these. Regardless, the Beetle is a resolute understeerer. The XDS brake-based “limited slip” differential is standard on the turbocharged cars.

The steering weight won’t alienate even the frailest of New Beetle customers, but still the wheel requires a touch of exertion to operate. The effort rises predictably with speed and offers enough feedback to satisfy those trading in their GTIs without scaring off old New Beetle buyers. Like the Jetta, the Beetle feels a bit less substantial than other VW products. It’s not terribly flimsy, just a slightly less-solid feel than we’re accustomed to. (Inside, fortunately, the Beetle betrays none of the cost-cutting so evident in the Jetta.) At German-appropriate speeds on the autobahn, we noted a very German-inappropriate nervousness above 100 or so mph. This will matter to few buyers in the U.S.

Beetle Hierarchy

What will matter to buyers here is the Beetle’s value. The cheapest Beetle starts at $19,765 and includes the 170-horse inline-five, the five-speed stick, disc brakes all around, one-touch power windows, cruise control, attractive cloth seats that fold 50/50 in the rear, and an eight-speaker stereo with an auxiliary input. If you want an automatic, you’ll have to step up to the Beetle 2.5, which starts at $21,665, or $20,565 with the manual. In addition to unlocking the automatic, the 2.5 adds leatherette seats—heated up front—Bluetooth, and a USB port. For $23,065 ($24,165 with an automatic), the Beetle with a sunroof adds a glass-covered hole in the roof, a leather-wrapped steering wheel with audio controls, keyless entry and starting, and a touchscreen radio. The priciest among the lower-powered Beetles adds 18-inch wheels, nav, and a Fender-branded audio system, for $24,865 ($25,965 with the auto).

Equipment groupings for the Beetle Turbo vary only slightly, with the basic Turbo starting at $24,165 and including 18-inch wheels, fog lights, gloss-black mirror housings, a rear spoiler, supportive sport seats with unique upholstery, a leather-wrapped shift knob and handbrake lever, and aluminum pedals. (The DSG adds $1100 to the price of any Turbo.) For another $3000, you’ll get the sunroof, audio controls and leather on the steering wheel, keyless entry and starting, the touchscreen radio, and the Fender audio. If you want to spend premium-German-brand money on your people’s car, the top-of-the-line Beetle demands $28,765 to add nav and leather seats, as well as dash and door trim wrapped in dead cowskin.

If you think of the Beetle as a recovered soap bar, the treatment was pretty cheap, with prices outpacing similarly equipped versions of VW’s less-stylish hatchback, the Golf and GTI, by about a grand. That seems reasonable to us for a car with scads more panache and a relatively minor drop in practicality. Best of all, the shape doesn’t appeal exclusively to women anymore.

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